


Say You Won't Let Go

by HarryPotterIsAnOtter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, James Arthur - Freeform, M/M, Pack Feels, Say you won't let go, all the feels, derek is just a lovable puppy, stiles is a badass rockstar, stories based on songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarryPotterIsAnOtter/pseuds/HarryPotterIsAnOtter
Summary: When Derek finally sees Stiles perform live, he wonders why it ever took him this damn long in the first place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Y'all. So this is the first time I've actually ventured from reader to writer. I fell in love with this song when it first came out, and for some reason it just stuck with Sterek for me. So here's my take on James Arthur's "Say You Won't Let Go," based around our two favorite idiots. Constructive criticism is always welcome.. So, here we go, fingers crossed this doesn't totally suck. I seem to have a problem taking the picture in my head and getting it on paper these days....

Derek hadn’t been here in years, but somehow it was still the same. The ten cent jukebox in the corner. The tattered Beatles poster by the ID check. The dinky spot lit stage in the corner of the room. Yep, same old Wolf’s Den. The only difference? This time it was Erica behind the bar instead of Laura, and Boyd at the ID check instead of Dad.

Somewhere down the line Erica and Boyd had transformed from those misfit kids to fully functioning adults. Who had been badgering him about getting down here tonight. After being victim to one of Erica’s not-so-gentle hug attacks, Derek had agreed to come if for no other reason than to get her damn fingers out of his armpits. It’d been years, but he still hadn’t lived down Stiles exposing his one fucking tickle spot. Wolves aren’t fucking ticklish god damnit. They just aren’t. 

 

Glancing around Derek caught sight of the rest of the pack. Scott and Kira seated together in one of the side booths cuddling. Melissa chatting with Lydia about The Wolf’s Den’s finances in a dark corner by the office. The sheriff chatting lightly with Erica about some new body armor an anonymous donor gifted the station. (Here’s a hint, the donor has red eyes and his name possibly rhymes with Smerek.) Jackson and Danny arguing over Jacksons newest contract to model for Calvin Klein. Isaac setting up the customary stool and bottle of water on stage.

 

Derek let himself have a small grin as he moved to one of the little tables in the back. Slinging his leather jacket across the back of the chair, Derek sat. His pack had come a long way since the beginning. Through a kanima, and the Argent’s, and the alpha pack, and the Nogitsune. They had come out on top. Stronger, and more trusting than Derek could ever have hoped. It had been years since anything supernatural had dared mess with the Hale Pack. Life had been good. 

 

A calmer town meant college for the pack. It meant vet school, and modeling contracts, and a Fields Medal. It meant Erica begging to reopen the Wolf’s Den, complaining that “The younger crowd has no where to go Derek!” It meant Kira working on her art and getting into art school. But the biggest one of all. The kicker nobody ever expected? It came when Stiles turned down the full ride to UC Irvin and chose instead to pursue a love of singing. 

 

Jackson had laughed a fuming Stiles out of the apartment, and the pack had subsequently berated him into apologizing. Which then lead the pack into begging Stiles for months to play for them. In the end Lydia’s very scary form of persuasion won out, and so Stiles played for the pack. Two weeks after that, Stiles got a call from L.A. Apparently a hacker friend of Danny’s passed on Stiles’ music to his producer dad. So, Stiles went, and became bigger than anyone had thought imaginable. 

 

Of course this was no surprise to Derek. He had been there for the three a.m. “Great Guitar Epiphany of 2010.” Which means he had heard Stiles play. It was that three a.m. session _(“epiphany Derek, it was a fucking epiphany”)_ that caused Derek to have an epiphany of his own. His failwolf self had gone and fallen in love. With the scrawny, overactive teenager that never seemed to be able to slow his ever flowing commentary on life. He’d gone and fallen in love with those hands. Watching the way Stiles held his guitar, they way his big palms easily dwarfed the neck and fret board. The way his fingers pressed down the strings. Those hands. The ones that held him up in that pool for hours. The ones that were prepared to saw off his arm. The ones that constantly proved trustworthy. That night was the last night Derek saw Stiles before Stiles left for L.A., and that had been seven years ago. Aside from pack functions or weddings here and there, Stiles didn’t really come home much. Derek found himself wondering all too often where Stiles was these days.

 

Derek was pulled from his thoughts by a nervous tapping against a microphone. Looking up towards the stage, Derek’s heart skipped a beat.

 

_Stiles._

 

 How the ever loving _fuck_ had he missed that?!  

 

He must really be getting old if he didn’t recognize that scent the minute he walked in. 

 

But there he was. Completely different yet exactly the same. He looked nothing like the Stiles he’d been watching on tv for the past seven years. Stiles was even different from when Derek had seen him at Scott and Kira’s wedding.The ill fitting flannels and sarcastic t shirts ( _they’re classics Derek come on!)_ had been traded for a single black tshirt that most definitely showed Stiles wasn’t sixteen anymore. Paired with what seemed to be the tightest black pants he had ever seen, Derek had to admit that Stiles had grown well. The width of his shoulders finally matched the rest of him. Stiles was no longer gangly and uncoordinated. He had a confidence that only came from walking red carpets and daily dealings with paparazzi. 

Watching Stiles adjust his guitar had him right back in Stiles room all those years ago.

 

Well.

 

**_Fuck._ **


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles was nervous. There’s not doubt about it. No amount of ADHD meds or alcohol could make him stop bouncing his leg or re-tuning his guitar as he hears Scott introduce him. Of all the times and places to be nervous. He’s played fucking Madison Square Garden for fuck sake. He could do this. He could.

 

Walking out on The Wolf’s Den’s small dingy stage was an experience on it’s own. To Stiles? It was the most important place to play. Not only because this was Beacon Hills, but because of the song he was about to play. His brand new, haven’t even played it for the producers, song. And this song? It’s going to bring back years of pain and love. Taking a seat on the lone stool and adjusting his guitar, Stiles waited for the applause to die down. Here goes nothing.

 

“Hey guys, it feels fucking amazing to be back home. What’s it been, five years since I’ve played a home town show?” Stiles asks.

 

“IT’S SEVEN STILINKSI AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!” comes Erica’s voice from behind the bar. 

 

The crowd bursts into laughter. Stiles self consciously rubs a hand against the back of his head.

 

Raising his hands in a placating gesture Stiles continues, “Alright, alright I get it.”

 

“What Erica means is that it’s been way too damn long since I’ve been here. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, but sometimes you gotta make exceptions for family. What up Pops?” Stiles calls out.

 

Leaning against the bar Sheriff Stilinksi raises a glass. 

 

“That better be water Dad!” Stiles yells and accusingly points a finger.

 

Settling on the stool and pulling his pick out from behind his ear, Stiles says, “Anyways. Like I said, it’s been too long. So... as an apology how would you guys like to hear something brand new?”

 

Excited murmurs start up, with a few wolf whistles and a “bout time Stilinksi!” thrown in. Thank you, Jackson.

 

“Ok, ok. When I say new... I mean brand new. No one’s heard this one. Not even the producers. But it’s... It’s important to me. It’s something that needed to be said. I’ve always been big about singing what you know, and letting your songs feel. I’d be a lying bastard if I didn’t let this song tell it’s story.”

 

Stiles paused, looking around the bar, eyes finally landing on Derek. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

 

“So this song is.. Well fuck. I’ll just let it speak for itself. This one is called ‘Say You Won’t Let Go.’ Let me know what you guys think.”

 

Stiles adjusted his guitar one last time and ran his pick along the strings to check tune. Closing his eyes, Stiles began to play.

 

_I met you in the dark, you lit me up,_

_You made me feel as though I was enough._

_I danced the night away, I drank too much,_

_You rubbed my back when,_

_I was throwing up._

 

As Stiles was singing he couldn’t help but think back to exactly that night. The rave in Derek’s loft. The night Derek wore that blue shirt. The one that made Stiles realize exactly how green Derek’s eyes were, and exactly how much he wanted to climb. that. like. a. fucking. tree. 

 

Flashes of color, his rapid heartbeat as he danced, laughter. The alcohol, too much alcohol. The “I told you not to drink so fucking much Stiles” growled in his ear as he hugged the toilet. The subtle rub of a thumb over his shoulder blade in a small gesture of comfort. 

 

 _Then I smiled over my shoulder,_  

_For a second I was stone cold sober._

_You pulled me closer to your chest._

_I asked you to stay over._

_You said, I already told you,_

_I think you should get some rest._

 

The cocky smile Stiles tossed over his shoulder. The moment he felt the floor fall out from under him when Derek gathered him into his chest and demanded Stiles try to sleep.Sleepily asking Derek to stay, and passing out before getting a response.

 

_I knew I loved you then,_

_But you’d never know,_

_Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go_

_I know I needed you,_

_But I never showed._

_But I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old_

_Just say you won’t let go._

 

Waking up the next morning in his bed, knowing he was in love with fucking Derek Hale the failwolf. Then proceeding to call Scott freaking out over the fact that apparently his brain decided it needed some of that wolfy business all up in his business. After calming down from what threatened to be his worst panic attack in a while, Stiles made the ( _very adult thank you)_ decision to just shelf it. There was no way he would mess up the pack by telling Derek. No fucking way. It would be a cold day in hell. I guess today it must be freezing down there.

 

_I’ll wake you up with some breakfast in bed,_

_I’ll bring you coffee with a kiss on your head._

_And I’ll take the kids to school_

_Wave them goodbye_

_And I’ll thank my lucky stars for that night._

 

God Stiles wants that so bad. To slowly sneak out of bed on a Sunday morning and make blueberry pancakes for breakfast. To sneak back in with said breakfast and coffee. Which honestly is more creamer than anything, because Derek has a sweet tooth to rival a five year old.To kiss the smile lines on Derek’s forehead. To take Erica and Boyd’s twins to school, wave goodbye as they run inside. 

 

_When I looked over my shoulder,_

_For a minute I forget that I’m older,_

_I wanna dance with you right now._

_Oh, and you look as beautiful as ever._

_And I swear that everyday you’ll get better_

_You make me feel this way somehow._

 

Dancing the night away at Scott and Kira’s wedding. Reducing Scott, Kira, _and_ Melissa to tears with his best man speech. Looking over his shoulder while dancing with the bride and catching Derek smiling. The small smile that showed off his bunny teeth, and causing Stiles breath to catch in his throat. Watching Derek in his tux, how he moved with a grace Stiles never seemed to possess. God all he wanted to do was pull Derek in by those stupid lapels and ask him to dance. Thinking that Derek just couldn’t possibly get any more beautiful, and feeling himself fall even deeper into the rabbit hole that was being in love with Derek Hale.

 

_I’m so in love with you,_

_And I hope you know,_

_Darling your love is more than worth it’s weight in gold._

_We’ve come so far my dear,_

_Look how we’ve grown._

_And I just wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old,_

_Just say you won’t let go._

 

Watching the pack grow, and learn how to handle each other. Watching Derek become the Alpha he was always meant to be. Going up against the newest threat, and always winning. Bonding with Erica over Batman. Being there for Boyd when he lost his little sister. Convincing Scott to just buy the damn engagement ring. Helping Isaac out of his PTSD induced shell. Welcoming Kira into the fold. Still kicking Jacksons ass. Being in awe of the fearsome intelligence that is Lydia. Laughing his ass off when they finally let Danny in on their little furry problem. 

 

_I wanna live with you_

_Even when we’re ghosts_

_Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most._

 

When Stiles needed a safe place to sleep after the nogitsune. When the jeep broke down on the way back from touring UC Irvin. When he couldn’t fucking move because of the giant ass claw marks across his chest. It was all Derek. 

 

_I’m gonna love you til_

_My lungs give out_

_I could promise til death do we part like in wedding vows_

_So I wrote this song for you, now everybody nows_

_Cause I want it to be you and me til we’re grey and old_

_Just say you won’t let go._

 

There no turning back now. Not after singing this. The pack will know. His dad will know. ** _Fuck._** Derek will know. There’s no way he wouldn’t. This was basically Stiles’ heart in song form. 

 

Strumming the last chord, Stiles finally let himself open his eyes. He ignored all the applause, the flashes of different iphones, the general chaos of it all. All Stiles could focus on were the bright red eyes of a certain wolf in the back of the bar. 

 

In what seemed like an eternity Stiles stood and took off the shoulder strap to his guitar, leaned it against the stool, and hopped off the small stage to make his way through the crowd. Smiling and high fiving when he had to, Stiles continued moving until he reached his destination. 

 

Raising his gaze to the now standing werewolf, Stiles sucked in a stuttering breath before whispering, “Hi.”

 

Slowly, Derek smiled, inched his hand closer to intertwine his fingers with Stiles, and whispered back, “Hi.”


End file.
